This Way
by thedeadlywriter
Summary: It is considered a crime to be homosexual in the mid 1900s. Ludwig Beilschmidt is not ignorant to what might happen. But the biggest secret of Ludwig's life, is that he is a homosexual. Between the horrors of post traumatic stress of war, the grim witnessing of his only brother's death, and this heavy secret, who will show him the light?
1. Ludwig

There were no birds. The atmosphere was completely silent. Dirt shook as expolsions went off in the distance, rattling the earth. Heavy black boots crunched rubble as they trudged through the debris of a small villiage in the northern parts of France. A group of four soldiers wandered through the street, looking for civilians and kicking pebbles. Large buildings seemed to be cut in half, crumbling to the ground. A man with icey blue eyes and blonde hair, packed under his helmet, plunged his pale and cold hands into the thick wool pockets of his coat. Long fingers gripped a metal tin, and opened the case. The man felt around for a cigarete packed away in the case. He sighed deeply when he realised he only had one left. He brought the tip to his chapped lips, and lit the end with his spare lighter. Warmth spread through his chest as nicotine traveled down his lungs. With a heavy breath, he blew a cloud of smoke above his sky was grey with smoke and polluted with dust. The ground rumbled as a heavy tank swept through the street ahead of the group of soldiers. Men shouted and screamed far in the distance. At this point in the war, it was hard to tell if the screams came from the enemy, or one of their own. The man with blonde hair inhaled deeply again, loving the warmth of the smoke. If he were to die, this is what he'd miss the most. Grim thoughts entered his mind about the death of his comrades and his own fair share of killing. They soon reached the center of the small neighborhood. A clock tower chimed ominously, sounding 10:00 in the morning. The stone tiles of the streets were cracked and dustly, some out of place. The man's boots stomped heavily through the wreckage. He scraped at his greasy face with his dirt-caked fingernails. His fingers brushed past small areas of unshaved stubble on his chin. The roar of an airplane engine broke the deafining silence as it raced past the group of men. Tired blue eyes scanned the open area where they were standing.

The very instant that he turned to face the other soldiers of his group, a rapid fire of bullets came charging at them. Panicked, the group dove to the nearest make-shift blockad they could find. A man from their group fell to the ground, blood pouring from his uniform. He was writing in pain, screaming and calling for help. The man tried to ignore the pleas of his friend as he loaded his gun with shaky hands and breaths. The two other men began firing at the enemy perched in the remains of buildings. The man sat his gun on the rocks and aimed it at a soldier sitting by a window, with his gun directed towards their group. He fired, and instantly the enemy fell from the three story window, crashing into the ground below him. The firing stopped, but the man still sat behind his fort, searching for others. When he felt confortable it was clear, he signaled to the remaining men. He rose from his spot, and carefully walked to the body of his fallen friend. The soildier was indeed dead. He closed his eyes in despair. Another plane rushed in the sky, craking the air with its monsterous roar. The man glanced at his mates, and nodded at them to signal to move on. The heavy boots continued to crunch on dirt and kick pebbles.

At long last, the group made it to a rescue site. Tents of wounded men were set up all around, as well as lines for food and water, and a rescue plane. The man dragged his heavy heels to a water line, and recieved a cup of water from a smiling woman. He nodded at her in thanks, and wandered to the rescue plane line. He gripped his cup tighter in his hands, waiting impatiently for the plane. He unbuckled his helmet, and ripped it off of his head. Greasy strands of blonde hair fell to his eyes, while some stands stuck up in place. He rubbed his hand through his hair, scratching his scalp. The wind blew delicately in his face, which he was grateful for. After taking a deep breath, a soldier in front of him turned around to face him. "Hello," he smiled. "My name is Max Winters." Max stuck his gloved hand out to the blue-eyed man. The man placed his helmet back on his head, and shook his hand. He nodded a greeting. "I am Ludwig Beilschmidt," he responded with a raspy voice. Max looked around the camp. "It's sad to see so many good German soldiers die here." He sighed. Ludwig nodded slowly. He kept his eyes above the grassy hills to watch for a plane. Max shuffled in his boots. "I'm hoping for a beautiful girl when I get back. That, and a tall glass of beer." He laughed. "And what about you? You got a girl back home?" Ludwig cleared his throat, and took another sip of water. "No." He responded flatly. A thunderous tremble in the air signaled the arrival of a rescue plane. The men in line cheered as it landed nearby. "Well, I guess we're up!" Max cheered. He made his way to the enterance of the plane, and Ludwig followed after. Sweaty and dirty men were packed into a small area with several seats. The men who were unfortunate enough to not get a seat were either standing on the plane, or forced to wait for the next one. Luckily, Ludwig got a seat next to Max. "Finally going back to Berlin..." Max sighed as he looked out the window, spying on the rolling green hills and trees, to the destroyed city. Ludwig slumped in his seat, relieved to finally sit down, placed his chin to his chest, and drifted off to sleep.

A few hours later, the plane landed at a clearing on the outskirts of Berlin. The men were escorted off the plane, and were directed to a truck that would stop by Berlin. Exhausted men made their way to the truck, and threw down their equipment. They all stacked up on the back of the truck, and waited for it to move. As they traveled closer to Berlin, the expressions of some men dropped to see that it had mostly been destroyed. The truck stopped at a small camp. A man from he camp instruced them to check in, and then they were free to go a train that would go to other parts of Germany. "All this travel... I just want to go home," Some men grumbled under thier breath. Ludwig got off the truck, and gathered his belonging. He walked as fast as he could to the tent, so he could leave. "Name and division?" A man said from behind a table. "Ludwig Wilhelm Beilschimdt, 305th Infantry Division." The man shuffled some papers around, and wrote something down in ink. "Alright, son, you're free for temporary discharge." He handed Ludwig a stack of folders and smiled. "Sir, I'm trying to get back to my brother, Major Gilbert Beilschimdt of the 291st Infantry Division. Where can I find him?" Ludwig pleaded. The man shuffled around more papers. "The 291st is currently stationed in Wittenberge for recruitment." Ludwig nodded back at him and responded with thanks before boarding the train. He found a nice empty compartment near the back and curled up near the window. The city was as crumbled as the one in France. Ludwig sighed. He wondered if things would go back to how they were before. A memory faded into his mind. It was blurry, but he could make out a large figure with blond hair and blue eyes, much like his own. A sense of warm familiarity crept up Ludwig's chest. His father. He died of some illness when he was a child, leaving him and his brother in his mother's care. Ludwig couldn't remember his father very well, but occasionally, he could feel him watching over him. "Hey, Beilschmidt." A voice woke Ludwig from his memory trance. Startled, he looked up. Max was standing in the doorway. "Do you mind?" Ludwig shook his head, and gesured to the seat across from him. Max threw his things on the seat, and plopped down. He groaned. "I just want to go home." Ludwig grunted in agreement. "What are you going to do when you get back?" Max asked Ludwig. "I... I want to see my brother." Max turned his head at Ludwig. "I don't have any siblings. What's he like?" Cloth crumpled as Ludwig moved his knees cloder to his chest. "He is a military trainer. He's a major in the 291st. I haven't seen him in two years." Ludwig turned his head to look out the window as trees blurred in the window. "I want to see my brother."

The train screeched to a halt at the Wittenberge train station. Ludwig got up, and grabbed his backpack. "This is my stop." He said to Max. Max waved his hand in good bye. "It was nice being with you, Ludwig. I hope you find your brother." Ludwig smiled at Max, and quickly walked off the train. Ludwig looked around the city. If his brother was anywhere, it would be at a bar. Ludwig smiled to himself, and started down the main road. As he walked further down the road, he heard very faint traces of music. Sounds of muted trumpets and drums came from a door leading down to an underground bar. This was it, Ludwig was certain Gilbert was down here. Excitment filled his feet as the took off to the door. He opened it, and jazz filled his ear. Ludwig made his way down the stairs, and looked at the scene in front of him. Smoke from cigars and cigarettes filled the air, the smell of beer was ripe, and three girls were up on the sage, singing jazz. Ludwig scanned the room for his obnoxious brother. No sign. Taking a deep breath, Ludwig walked over to the bartender. "Excuse me, but have you seen a man with silver hair around?" The bartendeer grinned. "Oh sure, the guy who's been chugging all my beer? He's around the corner."

"Thank you so much," Ludwig rusheed to the other side of the bar, and there, sitting at a table with a girl, was his brother. He was hard to miss, with his pale complexion and silver-blond hair. He walked over to his table, and the girl Gilbert was sitting wih looked up a Ludwig. This stopped Gilbert in his conversation, and he looked up to Ludwig. For a moment, there was silence between the two. Just quiet realization that they found each other. But then, Gilbert jumped up and wrapped his arms around Ludwig's neck. "Ludwig! I'm so happy I found you! I thought I would never see you again!" Gilbert wiped tears from his eyes before Ludwig could see. "I didn't think I would make it back," Ludwig smiled weakly. Gilbert hugged him once more before turning to the girl. "Ludwig, this is Elizabeta. Eliza, this is my baby brother Ludwig." The girl, now known to Ludwig as Elizabeta, stood up from her seat and shook Ludwig's hand. "Yes, you are all Gilbert ever talks about," she laughed. Gilbert chuckled, looking to the ground. "Ludwig, I bet you're thirsty. Here, have some beer."

The three of them sat down at the table, and Gilbert tossed Ludwig a pint. "So, how is it being on the front?" Gilbert asked. "Terrifying. It's too quiet in France." Ludwig stared at the bottom of his glass. "Well," Gilbert coughed, "At least you're doing something. I never get to fight." Gilbert took a swig of his own beer. The upbeat jazz music stopped for a moment, then started up with a slow swing song. "Oh!' Gilbert set his glass down. "Elizabeta has a friend here, and she's all alone. You should ask her to dance," Gilbert grinned. Elizabeta nodded. "I'm sure she'll love that. Here, I'll take you to her." Elizabeta grabbed Ludwig's hand and led him to a young girl sitting at the bar. "Bella, this is Ludwig. He just got back from France, and would love to dance with you," Elizabeta pushed Ludwig towards the girl. She had curly blond hair to her shoulders, and was wearing a red dress with white lace on it. Her red stained lips parted into a smile. "Sure, I'd love a dance, Ludwig," She sat up and linked her arm in his. Both of them walked to the dance floor, Ludwig dragging his feet and blushing like a fresh tomato. Bella turned to Ludwig once they were standing on the floor, and she took Ludwig's right hand in hers, and placed her other hand on his shoulder. Ludwig awkwardly placed his hand on her hips, and they swayed back and forth to the music.

 _Stars shining bright above you_

 _Night dreams that seem to whisper 'I love you"_

Ludwig looked above Bella's head and saw Gilbert and Elizabeta swaying, wih their heads pressed together. Bella was doing most of the leading, which made Ludwig feel guilty. He knew that the male partner was supposed to lead, but in all honesty, he didn't really want to. Red fabric of Bella's dress brushed against the wool of Ludwig's uniform. Her eyes fluttered from Ludwig's eyes to his lips. Bella began to lean to Ludwig, turning her head slightly. Ludwig barely noticed her actions in time, so he became the unfortunate victim of kissing. Her lips were soft against his ragged skin, and her eyelashed skimmed the base of Ludwig's cheek. Ludwig waited for something to happen, something that has been described by many of his friends and peers. That fluttering feeling in his chest, like fireworks bursting out of him. But none of that came. Maybe he was too tired. Ludwig shrunk back out of the kiss, and looked into Bella's dark blue eyes. It was decided. He had to go home as soon as possible. The song stopped, and the two broke the lock between their hands.

"Uhm..." Ludwig stuttered. "I have to go." He rushed past Bella, leaving her on the dance floor, and stopped next to Gilbert and his dance partner. "Gilbert. I need to go home," Gilbert let go of Elizabeta's hands. Music started up again, but more upbeat and fast. "Okay, sure." Gilbert smiled a bit at Ludwig. With a sigh of relief, Ludwig looked back at Bella for a moment, and noticed her sad eyes. Guilt spread Ludwig like a wave over rocks. He turned his head back to Gilbert, and urged him to hurry up. Gilbert waved a hand at him. "Okay, okay, I'll be upstairs in a bit." He kissed Elizabeta before leaving up the stairs after Ludwig. Ludwig straigtened his tie as soon as he got outside. "I have a little room in this house up here," Gilbert's voice startled Ludwig. Wih a sharp breath, Ludwig whipped around to Gilbert. "Okay, let's just go there." Ludwig took off up the street to where Gilbert pointed. Gilbert shrugged his shoulder's at Ludwig's odd behavior. "Jesus Lud," Gilbert started. Ludwig always hated the nicknames Gilbert had for him.

They walked up to a large white house with the sign "Frauline Laurna's Pension"- a boarding house. The wooden stairs creaked under their boots, all he way to Gilbert's room. Gilbert fiddled with the lock before opening the door, and let Ludwig in. "Holy shit man, you need a shower." Gilbert commented. Ludwig nodded, before throwing his heavy backpack on the floor near the desk. "Here, take this towel and these clothes. The shower's in there," Gilbert led Ludwig to the bathroom. It was white tile with a small bathtub and shower head, along with a toliet crammed in this tiny room. "Thanks, Gilbert." Ludwig set the towel down on the toilet seat. Gilbert pat Ludwig on the shoulder, and closed the door. Ludwig started to undress. His body was covered in dirt and scrapes. He peeled his socks from his feet, and groaned at the bandages covering his feet, and infections throughout his foot. Carefully, he removed the bandages, hissing in pain as they came off. He then removed his tie and jacket, along wih his shirt and undershirt. God, it felt good to get these clothes off. He turned the water nozzel to hot, and waited for the water to steam up. The bathtub squeaked as Ludwig stepped into the hot water. He suddenly became aware of his own stench. His mind brought him to Bella, and he became embarressed. He wondered if she could smell it. But, then again, she could've been drunk, which might have explained her actions... Ludwig wanted to find a reason to not be guilty for tonight. But he couldn't find one that made sense. The water ran down his nose and onto his lips. Ludwig shook his head, and proceeded to wash the dirt from his body.

Slow jazz played from the radio as Ludwig exited the bathroom weating fresh clothes. Gilbert lay on the bed, reading the newspaper. When he heard Ludwig enter, Gilbert put down the paper. "Hey. You're looking better," Gilbert sat up. Ludwig sat on the bed next to him. "Yeah, I feel better," Ludwig rubbed the back of his hair, still dripping. Pale pink fingers twiddled in Ludwig's hands. Gilbert coughed. "So... How about that dance? You and Bella were looking pretty good together," Gilbert nudged Ludwig in the side with his elbow and laughed. Ludwig faked a smile, "Yeah, it was great." He swallowed. "C'mon, Lud, you sly dog! I saw you kiss her," Ludwig's cheeks instantly lit on fire with embarressment. He covered his eyes with his hands. A heavy arm was placed around Ludwig's shoulders. "Don't worry so much, Luddy. I remember my first kiss," Gilbert laughed a bit.

Ludwig muttered into his hand. "Sorry, what was that?" Gilbert asked. Slowly, Ludwig pulled his head from under his hands. He took a deep breath. "I said, 'I didn't kiss her'. She kissed me," He looked away from Gilbert, even more red. "Whoa, really? That's so awesome! All the girls are chasing you!" Ludwig sniffled. "But-" His voice cracked, and tears began to form in his eyes. Gilbert instanly stopped laughing. "Are you-Are you okay?" Gilbert took his arm off of Ludwig. It was all so awkward. God, Ludwig needed a cigarette. He scratched his arms, waiting to calm down. But his tears finally fell from his eyes as he thought about what he was going to say. What was he going to say? That he was tired, or drunk, or still shocked from war, or maybe all three? Or... Or maybe he should just tell the truth. "Ludwig, hey, you can tell me what's wrong," Gilbert said softly. Branches from the trees swayed in the wind. Ludwig's head felt so heavy. He took a breath to stabilize himself. _Well, here goes..._

"Gilbert, what if-" Ludwig started. Tears flowed from his eyes, causing his blue eyes to be surrounded in a ring of red. He brought his fist to his mouth. This was so stupid of him. This was the most he had cried in a while, and it was over something this dumb. _Just say it!_ A little voice yelled at Ludwig. "What if I don't like her in that way," Oh god. He said it. Why, why, why did he have to say it! Ludwig's body felt like it combusted from the inside. There was an impending silence in the room. Gilbert's red eyes looked to the floor in thought. Ludwig put his head back in his hands. _No... Here it comes._ "Ludwig," Gilbert's chest expanded as he inhaled. "You know that's illegal." Ludwig choked as another wave of sobs exited from his eyes. "Y-yes, I know. I don't mean to, I didn't-" His voice was drowned in hiccups. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" Ludwig leaned forward even more to hide his face. The white shirt on his back shivered with him. "You better keep this a secret. You know what they'll do to you." Gilbert's hand rested on Ludwig's back. Ludwig's tears began to slow. Yes, he knew what would happen to him. He was terrifyed of anything like that happening to him. Ludwig brought his head up, and stared at the wall ahead of him. He balanced his head on his knuckles. Gilbert embraced Ludwig, and put his head down on his shoulder. "Listen, Lud. You're still my brother. I won't tell mom, or anyone," Smiling at this, Ludwig sat up straighter. "I guess this makes that whole thing with that kid from school so much easier to understand," Gilbert joked. Ludwig laughed, and looked at Gilbert with his blood shot eyes. "Yeah, I guess," He responded. Suddenly, Ludwig's head felt lighter.


	2. What Comes Around

_January 1944_

Ludwig shivered in his bed. The curtains pertched on the window floated against the wind. The clock showed 4:37 AM. Groaning, Ludwig sat up. He pulled the covers off of him and rubbed his eyes. He walked to the window, and pushed it closed. Why anyone in their right mind would open a window in the winter at night, was beyond him. For some reason, he spent time looking out the window. Snow fell gently from the sky, landing on street lights and building. An automobile drove up the driveway of the boarding house, and a man wearing a uniform got out. Ludwig watched him walk up the porch, and walk away. The truck let out a sputter and a cloud of smoke, and drove off. Ludwig glanced back at Gilbert in the bed, sound asleep. He contemplated whether or not he should go back to bed, or find out what that man left.

He chose the latter. Ludwig stepped softly to the door, pulling it open with a slow creak. He carefully made his way down the stairs, and pried the heavy door open. The cold night wind blew on his face, letting some snowflakes fall on his face. He picked up two letters in the mailbox, labeled "Major G. Beilschmidt" and "Captain L. Beilschmidt" from the army. Ludwig opened his immediately.

 _Captain Ludwig Beilschmidt,_

 _Please plan to return to the 305th Infantry on the Western Frontline, to Normandy, France. You are expected to arrive on 25 January, 1944 at 0800 hours._

 _Friedrich-Wilhelm Hauck_

Ludwig closed the note slowly. He slumped against a nearby pole. Why do they want him back? He looked at Gilbert's letter. Despite the overwhelming curiousity, Ludwig decied to wait until Gilbert woke up. He walked quietly back up the stairs to the small room. When he got to the door, he realized Gilbert was not in his bed. Gilbert reappeared from the bathroom. "Hey." He whispered, scratching under his shirt. "Hi," responded Ludwig, awkwardly. "This came for you," Ludwig handed the letter to Gilbert. Gilbert took it and looked at it. with a confused look. He ripped the glue and pulled the letter out.

 _Major Gilbert Beilschmidt,_

 _You have been transferred to the 305th Infantry on the Wesern Frontline. Please meet them at Normandy, France. You are expected to arrive on 25 January, 1944 at 0800 hours._

 _General Friedrich-Wilhelm Hauck_

"No way..." Gilbert whispered under his breah. "Ludwig, I finally get to fight! And I'm in your division!" Gilberrt grinned at Ludwig. As much as Ludwig wanted to return the smile, he was worried for Gilbert. War is a dangerous place, after all. As if he could read Ludwig's mind, Gilbert sighed. "Don't worry about me, little brother. I know how to fight." Gilbert looked at the letter again. "January 25, huh? That's only a week away," He muttered. Ludwig suddenly remembered. "Happy birthday, Gilbert." He said with a small smile. "God, please don't remind me," Gilbert laughed quietly. "I'm getting so old," Ludwig shook his head. "You're only 25,"

"26, my dear brother."

"Still, that's not old."

Gilbert laughed to himself. "I guess. It's just that... in this war, I can never tell which birthday is my last. Could be this one," Ludwig shivered. "Please don't talk like that. Ever." It was something Ludwig himself thought about, but it wasn't exactly something he wanted to think about. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'll live until I'm 103." Gilbert joked. Ludwig wished with all his heart that would be the case.

They arrived in Normandy exactly on time. Normandy was covered in German bases, soldiers, tanks, and submarines. Someone there expalined to the brothers that the Allies were planning an invasion on Normandy, so it was imparative the army get ready. Gilbert was tasked with training troops, much to his dismay, and Ludwig was in charge of patrolling every now and then. Ludwig promised Gilbert that he would get his chance to fight eventually, but Gilbert just grumbled and stormed back into his tent.

About ten feet from his tent, five or six men sat around a warm fire, watching the flame and huddled together. Ludwig wanted to be near that warmth, so he walked over to the ring. A radio was perched on a log nearby, playing American jazz. With a grunt, Ludwig sat on a wood bench and rubbed his hands on his arms. "Say what you will, but this music isn't all that bad," a soldier commened while sipping a steaming cup of coffee. The sand shifted under Ludwig's boots as he shuffled his feet together. "I like their cartoons," another one said, "like Mickey Mouse." The group laughed and nodded their heads in agreement. "I wish I could see one again." The man sat back against the bench he was perched on. Ludwig reached towards a pot in the fire, and poured himself a cup of coffee. The smell of black coffee filled his nose, and the heat warmed his hands. "I wish I could see a girl again," One man joked. The group laughed. "After all, girls go nuts for a man in uniform," As the group laughed, Ludwig stared into the fire. "I heard Beilschmidt got some action back in Berlin," Ludwig's head shot up, and glanced at them with wide eyes. "Right, Beilschmidt? You were kissing with some pretty girl," One man laughed and nudged him. Ludwig clearned his throat. "It wasn't like that." He mumbled. "What'd you do after?" A soldier asked him. "I left." Ludwig responded. After all, it was the truth. "Aw, that's no fun!"

"Yeah, c'mon Beilschmidt, what're you afraid of? You some kind of queer?" The group laughed. Ludwig's heart sank directly to his stomach. "No, I-" He quickly tried to defend himself. The men sat closer to him. "I bet you are a fruit," A man poked him. Ludwig shrunk back into himself, trying to keep his eyes on the fire. "What, are you? Huh?"

"I'm not-I don't-" He rubbed his hands togeher, anxiously. The group continued to laugh at him. "Do you sleeze around with men? I bet you like it," Ludwig felt like he was going to throw up. His stomach churned in embarressment and anxiety. One soldier sat in front of him, and made a fist with his right hand. He thrust it back and forth with his mouth open. Ludwig's lips curled in disgust. He lifted his shoulder to his ears, trying to protect himself. "Hey! Cut it out!" A voice came from behind the group. Gilbert stormed up to the fire and picked up Ludwig by his uniform collar. "I need to talk to my brother," Gilbert's firey red eyes glared at the group. He turned around, and led Ludwig back to his tent. Once safe inside, Gilbert sat down at his desk. "Fuckers." He muttered. Ludwig stood awkwardly in front of Gilbert. "Thanks, by the way." Ludwig whispered. Gilbert waved his hand. "Those guys are morons. Don't mind them too much, Lud." Gilbert sat back in his chair. "I hope they don't actually believe it. I don't know what would happen if-if they..." Ludwig trailed off. He slammed his fist into his thigh. "God... why am I like this?" He pointed his eyes at the ground. "Hey, Lud," Gilbert rose from his seat. "It's no one's fault, not even your own. Those guys are douches, and I don't think they took it seriously." Gilbert placed a pale hand on Ludwig's shoulder. "It's alright. You're not going anywhere."

 _June 1944_

Five months passed and the Germans had an overwhelming amount of men and artillery. U-Boats and other submarines patrolled the coast line. Gilbert was confident in the strength of these men. Ludwig needed a cigarette. One morning, while Gilbert and Ludwig sat ina tent, a general came to them, saying the Allies are on their way. Gilbert instantly got up from his seat, grabbed his gun, and walked outside of the tent. Ludwig strapped his helmet on, and followed Gilbert onto the beach. They walked past traps set up, and perched themselves on a sandy hill, waiting. The boats came in groups. Hundreds of Allies jumped off these giant boats and into the water. Bullets whizzed past Ludwig's ear as everyone around him were shooting at the enemy. Grenades blew up around the sand, throwing some people around like rag dolls. The ground shook as explosions went off, as well as screams from both Axis and Allies. Gilbert got up, and ran down to the main part of the battle. Ludwig watched him, with wide eys, stumble in the sand, gripping his helmet to his head. Out of impulse, Ludwig shot out of his spot, and ran after Gilbert. As Ludwig took steps forward, a stab of agonizing pain ran thorugh his leg. His knees buckled as he cried out. Blood was already seeping through his uniform and spilling on the sand. Gilbert stopped in his tracks and turned to face Ludwig. "West!" He called out. He ran over to Ludwig. "Lud, Ludwig listen," he tried to say over Ludwig's cries of pain, "It's alright, we're... I'm here, you're okay, alright? Let me help you," Gilbert took Ludwig's arm and wrapped around his shoulder. Blood leaked down Ludwig's leg and into his boot as Gilbert lifted him off the ground. Ludwig screamed as pain shot in waves up his leg. "Hey! I need a doctor! Please!" Gilbert called out. He dragging Ludwig up and around the hill, where seaweed gathered in heavy nests. "You're okay, just..." Gilbert wiped tears from his eyes. "Here," Gilbert ripped off a piece of his uniform and pressed it to Ludwig's leg. Ludwig clenched his teeth in agony. Gunshots fired around them. Ludwig looked to Gilbert, but everything had gone quiet. All he heard was distant explosions, and ringing in his ears. Gilbert stared down at Ludwig, clearly saying something to him, but Ludwig couldn't read lips. Gilbert's head turned around quickly, as if somehing surprised him from behind. Gilbert got up from where he stood, and got in front of Ludwig in a defensive stance.

"Hey, look at those Krauts up there!" An American soldier gestured to two men in German uniforms, one crouching over the other. "Wonder what they're up to."

"James, leave them alone. We don't know what they're doing."

"Ah, quit nagging me, Jonesie. That's my point: we don't know what they're doing," The American James started up the hill to the two. A German soldier stood up, blocking the two American soldiers from another German. James called out to the man. "What are you doing?" He asked, almost with a smile. The german stepped forward agressivly and replied, "Zurücktreten! Zurücktreten du Schwein!" James turned to his comrade with a cocky grin. "Isn't this nice?" He turned back to the Germans. "I'm sorry, I don't speak Kraut." James trudged up the sand to the other man. "Get down, or we're going to have a problem." The German didn't budge. "So that's how it's going to be." James took out his gun and shot the German straight in the chest. With a jump, the German's eyes went wide, and he toppled to the ground. "NEIIIN! GILBERT!" A strangled voice came from behind the now dead German. The second German crawled to the body of his friend.

James snickered and turned to the other American. "James, what the hell!?" The man yelled. "C'mon, Alfred, what's the big deal? Who knows what those pigs were planning down there." Alfred pushed James aside. "He was trying to help this one! Can't you see this guy's injured?" He pointed at the blond German, who looked up at them with terrifyed, tear- stained eyes. "I'm taking him to a doctor," Alfred knelt by the German, and tried to pick him up. The German understood what was happening to him, but he started screaming. The man was sobbing and trying to reach to his dead comrade. Alfred was able to understand what the man was saying, and winced at the screams. "NEIN! NEIN! DAS IST MEIN BRUDER! MEIN BRUDER, BITTE!

Ludwig struggled against the American, but the pain in his leg was too great. He turned his head to Gilbert's body, crumpled in the sand. Blood leaked from his mouth, staining his perfectly white skin. His red eyes stared at nothing, lacking the life they once had. Ludwig shut his eyes to keep tears from falling. "No.. no."

The American led him to a medical base. Other American men screamed in agony, and nurses ran around with blood-stained dresses and cloths. Ludwig's eyes grew wider in fear as blood poured from a soldier's eyes. "Doctor, doctor, this man has been shot in the leg." The American man gestured with his head to Ludwig. "No, no, no, son. We don't take Germans." The doctor turned around and began walking over to his tools. "Please! He's badly hurt!" The man looked at Ludwig. "You speak English? Spreche die Englisch?" The man's dark blue eyes stared in urgency. Ludwig swallowed, and nodded slowly. "A bit." He replied. "See? He knows English! Please!" A nurse came up to the doctor, and the doctor said something to her and pointed at the pair. She ran up to them and said, "Come this way," The American took Ludwig again, and dragged him to a nearby cot. Blood covered the matress and around it. The American set him down on the matress, and nurse instructed him to lay down.

She tore some parts of the bloody uniform off that surrounded the wound. "I'm sorry I ran out of anesthetic," she told Ludwig. "Just bite down on this," She handed his a leather belt. The American held Ludwig's shoulders down as he gripped the belt between his teeth. She cut open Ludwig's skin with a knife, and dug around near the bone in his lower leg. Ludwig yelled out in pain, muffled by the belt. His body instantly tried to sit up, but the American held his body down. Blood poured down Ludwig's leg, and he tossed his head back as he screamed. The nurse dug around further with her tweezers before holding down Ludwig's leg, and pulling out a small bullet. "There," she breathed. She grabbed towels and cloths, and pressed them down on the wound to clean up the blood. "This is going to hurt," She grabbed a small metal bottle, and poured a liquid on the wound. It instantly stung and it felt like Ludwig's leg caught on fire. He screamed again and arched his back. His toes curled in his boots, and he tried to shake his leg. The nurse dabbed at the blood again, and packed on as much bandages as she could. Ludwig's breathing was still erratic, but he calmed down a little bit. "Okay, you need to stay here until that bleeding's gone," The nurse gathered her tools, and rushed off to help someone else.

The American let go of Ludwig's shoulders, and sat on the ground next to him. Ludwig spat out the belt, and tried to control his breathing. His teeth chattered as his body shook. "See? You're better now." The American said with a small smile. In attempt to keep Ludwig distracted, the American spoke to him. "What's your name?" He asked. "L-Ludwig..." Ludwig shuddered. He kept his eyes closed tight to bear the pain. "Where are you from?"

"Ich kommt- I come from Weimar." He said through clenched teeth. Honestly, he appreciated the American's efforts, but he was in too much pain to small talk. "My name is Alfred Jones. I'm from Brooklyn." Ludwig nodded his head, though it felt like it was going to split in half. "Look... I'm really sorry about... you know," Alfred cracked his knuckles and looked at Ludwig. He didn't respond. He opened his blue eyes and stared at the ceiling. His brother meant the world to him, and he was taken away in a split second. "So how'd you learn English?" Alfred asked. "In France... With army." Ludwig formed an answer in his best English. "I can not speak good," Alfred chuckled. "That's alright. I get it."

Alfred turned his head to the explosions ringing around them. "I'm really sorry, but I need to return to my men." Alfred got up. "I need to return to my men," Ludwig copied. Rolling off the cot, Ludwig tried to stand. "Oh no, you still need to stay here." Ludwig shook his head. "I need to return to my men." He pointed to the battlefield, then to his uniform. "I am German," Alfred nodded. "I see... Well Ludwig," he buckled his helmet. "I wish you luck," He shook Ludwig's hand before walking back onto the beach. Ludwig watched him go, then limped away from the tent.

He limped all the way up the sand hill, with grenades throwing sand into his eyes, and now coated in blood, sand, sweat, and sea water. He finally found the German tents, and he stumbled into a commuications tent. The men huddled around the telephone shot their heads up at Ludwig. "Captain Beilschmidt!" Ludwig took a step forward, before his world went black and he fell to the ground.

He woke up to a crystal blue sy, and wind in his hair. His leg was tightly bound with bandages, and he lay stiffly on a stretcher. His lips cracked as he tried to speak. "W-Where am I?" He said hoarsly. "On your way home. You've been discharged." Ludwig's throat burned with dehydration. "Home?" A man towered over Ludwig's body. "That's right. To Weimar." Ludwig turned his head to the side. Home. It's been so long, he'd wondered what happened between now and when he last saw it. "Captain Beilschmidt, I have to tell you..." The man cleared his throat. "Your brother is dead." Ludwig turned his tired eyes back to the man. "Yes, I know." He siad sadly. The man grabbed Ludwig's hand and opened his palm. "Here, this belongs to you." A metal object was placed in the center of his hand. Ludwig slowly raised his hand to his eyes, and looked at the metal tag in his hand.

 _Gilbert Johann Beilschmidt, 291st Infantry._

The words were carved into the tag. Ludwig clutched it his hand and brought it to his lips. "I'm so sorry, Gilbert." He whispered to himself. The stretcher was picked up, and loaded into a plane. He was on his way home, and Gilbert didn't follow him.


End file.
